A New Season
Fall is my favorite season. There’s something about the slight dip in temperature and the autumnal colors. A hot cup of coffee, from my experience, tastes best in this in between of hot and cold. Cliched folks like myself get manipulated and taken advantage of through marketing ploys during the months of pumpkin spiced everything. But even Fall gets old for me. At some point, the Advent season takes over. With some combination of overly decorated shopping malls, Christmas movies, and Buddy the Elf cult followings, even the sundry Winter season presents itself as a welcome change.
And it’s not just with seasons. We look for change everywhere. And by we, I think I can speak on behalf of the majority (if not all) of humanity. This same desire for changing seasons manifests itself in our wardrobes, with the furnishing of our homes, and even with the location of our dwelling. There’s something about change that’s not only anticipatory but oddly comforting.
Judy once had me listen in on a thought presented by Jen Wilkin — that the only one who should deem himself ultimately unchangeable is God. And when we express a reluctance to change aspects of ourselves through saying things like, “That’s just the way God made me” or “I can’t change the way I am,” these are prideful enactments of creatures claiming an identity exclusively held by our Creator God. For only God can deem Himself truly unchangeable. It’s what theologians refer to as one of the incommunicable attributes of God (things that are exclusively God’s and not shared to His creatures and creation).
And so, it’s not change in and of itself that provides comfort. But we seek for change with seasons, with possession, and even with our communities at times, because these things, places, and people we seek comfort in all have an expiration date. They’re not meant to provide true satiation and ultimate reprieve, because they aren’t meant occupy the seat where only one belongs. In God is the only place where no change provides paramount comfort. And because the Scriptures testify that Jesus is the same yesterday, today, and forevermore (Heb 13:8), we rest assured that His words of promise are likewise. We trust that His promises are indelibly written down and sealed in blood.
At Christ Our Redeemer, our conviction is that The Gospel Changes Everything. And it’s nothing new or inventive by us. It’s a statement, I’m sure, many of you have heard through better known churches and ministries that have gone before us. And yet, this conviction threads the fabric of our existence as a community. Because all that’s distorted and broken needs change. That applies to all that’s corrupted and fractured out there. But also includes all the hidden blemishes in here — within you, me, all the people in this new gathering, and our community of faith itself. We look forward to the changes that are to be narrated with the turning of the page into this new chapter.
And it’s not just with seasons. We look for change everywhere. And by we, I think I can speak on behalf of the majority (if not all) of humanity. This same desire for changing seasons manifests itself in our wardrobes, with the furnishing of our homes, and even with the location of our dwelling. There’s something about change that’s not only anticipatory but oddly comforting.
Judy once had me listen in on a thought presented by Jen Wilkin — that the only one who should deem himself ultimately unchangeable is God. And when we express a reluctance to change aspects of ourselves through saying things like, “That’s just the way God made me” or “I can’t change the way I am,” these are prideful enactments of creatures claiming an identity exclusively held by our Creator God. For only God can deem Himself truly unchangeable. It’s what theologians refer to as one of the incommunicable attributes of God (things that are exclusively God’s and not shared to His creatures and creation).
And so, it’s not change in and of itself that provides comfort. But we seek for change with seasons, with possession, and even with our communities at times, because these things, places, and people we seek comfort in all have an expiration date. They’re not meant to provide true satiation and ultimate reprieve, because they aren’t meant occupy the seat where only one belongs. In God is the only place where no change provides paramount comfort. And because the Scriptures testify that Jesus is the same yesterday, today, and forevermore (Heb 13:8), we rest assured that His words of promise are likewise. We trust that His promises are indelibly written down and sealed in blood.
At Christ Our Redeemer, our conviction is that The Gospel Changes Everything. And it’s nothing new or inventive by us. It’s a statement, I’m sure, many of you have heard through better known churches and ministries that have gone before us. And yet, this conviction threads the fabric of our existence as a community. Because all that’s distorted and broken needs change. That applies to all that’s corrupted and fractured out there. But also includes all the hidden blemishes in here — within you, me, all the people in this new gathering, and our community of faith itself. We look forward to the changes that are to be narrated with the turning of the page into this new chapter.
In this new season of new beginnings, we place our comfort not in what we are or what we seek to become but in our never-changing God and His promises that don’t shift or change, though we might and most certainly will.
And so, may it never be so that we as a community say things like, “That’s just the way we are” or “It’s the way God made us” or “We can’t change the way we are.” May we always be humble enough to acknowledge the need for change. And in faith, may we anticipate those changes by being placed into the arena of God’s grace.
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2023
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